


Petals like Starlight (Space/Astronomy June 2019 BVDN)

by musicofthespheres



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: BVDN, F/M, flower shop au, june 2019 bvdn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: Thank you to BianWW for this beautiful banner for TPTH's June 2019 BVDN. It's lovely! Thanks also to RockyKelboa for hosting, and for all the authors and artists who made this month's drabble night a smashing success. You guys rule.Please enjoy this sexy little flower shop au.





	Petals like Starlight (Space/Astronomy June 2019 BVDN)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to BianWW for this beautiful banner for TPTH's June 2019 BVDN. It's lovely! Thanks also to RockyKelboa for hosting, and for all the authors and artists who made this month's drabble night a smashing success. You guys rule.
> 
> Please enjoy this sexy little flower shop au.

1.Stars in your eyes

She’s smitten. Starstruck, even. There’s probably a better way to describe the roiling, tumultuous sea of emotions wreaking havoc in her body, but if she had to boil it down to one word, that would be it. Maybe it’s because he looks so out of place. Maybe it’s the combination of nervousness and the way he tries to hide it--he looks like the stoic type, but his dark eyes betray an actual personality beneath that exterior. The uncertainty. Bulma laps it up. 

The man looks less than thrilled to be there, but he takes his time. He pores over each choice, reads the labels for each type of flower like it’ll bestow upon him the secrets of the universe. There’s no ring on his finger, she notices belatedly. It only bolsters her confidence as she finishes ringing through the only other customer in the store and all but ushers them out the door. Leaving them alone. 

She flits over to him, intent on putting herself in his orbit and being nosy. “What’s the occasion?” she asks lightly, prying. Hoping that his explanation will omit the world _girlfriend_. 

His eyes flick to her and back to his reading material. “There’s no occasion.” Then, “I’m in town visiting my mother.” 

Oh. _That,_ Bulma can work with. Her face splits into her most charming grin. “What’s her favorite?” 

He shrugs. He doesn’t know, sons never do. Bulma’s seen it a million times; helpless men desperate to choose something their partner will like, or the other women in their lives, without procuring that information beforehand. They’re not observant enough. “She’s not really a flowers person.” 

Bulma leans into his space. He smells earthy, and his cologne has a touch of spice. Cinnamon, maybe? “Well, I can help with that,” she nearly purrs at him. “There’s something here for everyone.” She sticks out her hand. “Bulma Briefs, owner and proprietor of this fine establishment.” 

He regards her hand for a long moment before tentatively reaching out to grip it in return. “Vegeta.” 

 

2.Moonlight Desires

The clock is ticking. Only fifteen minutes until close, and it’s only Tuesday. Bulma hopes another customer doesn’t come in for the night so she can have him all to herself for the next quarter hour. This is one of the quietest nights of the week, so her hopes are high. 

Bulma asks all the usual questions. What are his mom’s favorite colors, favorite scents? Does she wear perfume? What decor does she prefer? Anything she can think of to narrow down his choices and make his purchase a breeze. And maybe she asks a few non-essential questions about his upbringing to figure out what sort of person he is, but he’s none the wiser. He does, however, look like he’s about to bolt when it comes down to the actual decision. 

“What time do you have to be at her place tonight?” Bulma asks, trying to figure out his timeline but also deciding if it’s worth inviting him to stay for a visit and other things. Gods, it’s been such a long time since she’s gotten laid. Then this asshole turns up, all rippling muscles, delicious scent and gruff voice and her panties are practically dropping under her skirt. She’s so ready to break her no-flirting-with-customers rule. It was stupid and self-imposed, anyway. 

“She doesn’t know I’m in town. So, any time.” He regards her suspiciously, or so she thinks. Has he deduced her motives so easily? Or does he feel the same? She can feel his eyes lingering on her when she turns toward another bank of refrigerated flowers. He’s probably close to making a decision, but she wants to draw this out as much as she can. If she can’t get him to stay and fulfill her moonlight desires tonight, she’ll pass him her business card and electrify his senses with a well-placed touch when he leaves.

 

3.Supernova

Vegeta finally settles on a custom bouquet with snapdragons, hyacinths, and peonies. Normally, Bulma would require at least a day’s notice or would charge extra, but he decides to stick around at her invitation. She locks up the shop, flips the sign, and gets to work. 

“I didn’t realize you were about to close,” he says, almost sheepishly. But he doesn’t make any move to leave her to it, doesn’t offer to come back tomorrow instead. Instead, he plants himself firmly on the chair she offers him and scrolls on his phone as she selects the best of each of his choices. 

It doesn’t take long. She’s a pro, after all, and she’s an old hand at this. She wraps it and ties a ribbon and prepares to give him the care instructions when he stands suddenly. “How long will those keep?” 

“A couple of days in the fridge, why? Change of plans?”

He moves into her space, mirroring her earlier actions. “You busy tonight?” 

A shake of her head, almost imperceptible as her thoughts race with { _ohmygod isthishappening yesithinkitis_ , the way she stares at his mouth as he gets closer--it’s all the cue he needs to close the space between them. 

Gods, he even _tastes_ amazing. Bulma melts against him, her lips soft and pliant against his, letting him demand and take and prod at her mouth with his tongue. She grants him access, dances in rhythm with his explorations. Supernovas burst in her mind as her brain short circuits. 

Yeah. This is happening.

 

4.Across the Universe

“I have an office,” Bulma gasps as they break apart, hiking a thumb over her shoulder. “With a desk. Out of sight-”

He cuts her off again with another kiss, deeper and more fervent than the first. The air takes on a desperate tang. She can feel every movement, deliberate, calculated, but executed with a passion she hasn’t felt in… well, ever. Somehow, when she opens her eyes again, he’s maneuvered them inside. She kicks the door shut behind them. 

The moment it closes, his hands are all over her. She returns the favor, slipping her fingers under the hem of his too-tight shirt, down past the waistband of his jeans to tease at his hip bones. She makes quick work of the buttons on his shirt, nimbly slipping each one out of its home and revealing a chest full of scars and tales for another time. 

There’s something raw in the way he handles her, like she’s as delicate as the flowers she sells but at the same time sturdy enough to handle the broiling flame of his passion. She pauses, pulls away, looks him in the eyes. There are fine lines around them, but she can tell he’s not as old as he looks. His lips turn down into a pout. Clearly, he wants to get back to it, but he waits for her go-ahead. Bulma feels a jolt of something, thrill maybe, strike through her body. 

She’s never done something like this before. 

Or someone like him. 

She puts aside whatever mommy issues he apparently has and sees this for what it really is: a frenzied hook-up between two adults who clearly have bigger things to work through. And she’s okay with that. She hasn’t even gotten his last name. And that’s _okay_ , really, but--

Gods damn him. 

Whatever emotions he’s harboring look like they’re about to spill out so she kisses him again. Can’t let that happen. Not now. Not when her core is aflame with anticipation. Not when he’s about to take her across the universe and back, if she can turn off her analytical mind for a second.

 

5.Ignition

Bulma hasn’t felt this sort of intimacy since her last long-term relationship. All the sordid affairs in between, one night stands and weekend-long holdouts, had been Just Sex. The way this is going, it doesn’t feel like it’ll be Just anything. 

He holds her close, waits for her to acquiesce. She still doesn’t know his full name, what he’s about, but she can feel the pride in his movements. It’s his honor on the line, making her feel good. His fingers work between her legs, up her skirt, pulling aside the damp fabric of her underwear. 

It’s slow and fevered all at once, but Bulma wishes they were in a real bed right now. He takes care laying her back on the hard desk, but she wants to pull him close and feel his weight on top of her without her tailbone digging into the hard wood behind her. 

He presses his fingertips just inside, taking her slickness and working it up toward her clit. It sets her on fire, igniting the sort of long-dormant feelings she can’t awaken on her own. The air feels heavy with his presence. He rests between her thighs, pressing his hardness against her body. Anticipating. 

“Vegeta,” she sighs. His name feels Right on her tongue. It belongs there, slips out between every little gasp and moan he elicits. She angles her hips upward, pressing into him. Her mind is so far gone in the haze of desire that she can’t even think about returning the favor right now, but she has a feeling he won’t require it of her. He has other things in mind. 

A fresh burst of arousal dampens his hand at the very thought of it. 

 

6.Lift-off

He’s such a tease. He drags the tip of his cock along her thigh, already sporting the condom he’d slipped from his wallet when she wasn’t looking. There are three fingers inside her now, working her to the point of hysteria.

Bulma reaches down between her legs in a vain attempt to guide him, but he’s taking his time on purpose. A wicked grin graces his lips, his eyes flashing with delight at the control she’s given him. He doesn’t seem the type to abuse that kind of power. She barely knows him, but Bulma trusts him implicitly. He’s not going to hurt her. 

When he finally enters her, all in one motion like he belongs between her legs, she feels like she’s earned it. He’s so thick and full and no one she’s had before can compare. Look at her, waxing romantic; she’s already thinking that nobody after him would come close, either. But she can’t invite him to stay. Not yet. She doesn’t know what sort of man he is yet, if he’s right for her--but he feels like it. Oh, gods, does he ever feel like it. 

Their bodies move perfectly in tune, in time, in rhythm. She’s flexible enough to contort to his every whim; he’s strong enough to support her when she does. 

The desire flaming within her starts toward its crescendo. Her movements turn frantic, erratic, but he holds himself within her. Steady. Controlled. Every thrust drags out her pleasure until she feels ready to burst. 

It’s 3, 2, 1, lift-off and she’s crying out his name to the empty room, holding him flush with her skin with her legs wrapped around his back. 

He moans out the syllables of her name as he follows her over the precipice, panting, stuttering hips, before going still. 

They stay joined like that until reality sinks back in. Bulma opens her eyes, sees her reflection mirrored in the dark ocean of his pupils. She’s flushed, but so is he, face tinted delightfully red with exertion and lust. The afterglow sits well on him.

Bulma thinks she’d like to see it again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always appreciated <3


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